Swimming Against The Stream
by tweektweaked
Summary: To a young man in college, three years can feel like nothing at all. But to lose everything in just one moment? An individual's entire world can collapse in a matter of seconds, just as Tweek's had, and he cannot bear the overwhelming pain. His refusal to accept facts and listen to logic is only half of the problem, though.
1. Rekindling

The studio no longer reeks of cigarette smoke and Pinesol but, rather, has taken up the crisp scent of Fresh Fall Pumpkin. Still, the smell of nicotine lingers, for no matter how hard Tweek tries, old habits never really die.

He stands on the balcony, a damp cloth in hand, and takes a deep breath in.

There's something special about his monthly Spring Cleaning routine. It's nice to have a routine. Change isn't something Tweek warmly welcomes with open arms.

This is the first time in a long time that Tweek is cleaning because he is expecting visitors.

It's late afternoon and the scalding temperatures of a mid-fall day in Colorado have already dropped drastically. Although the sun hasn't entirely dipped beneath the horizon, the sky is now a canvas painted with streaks of red-oranges and purples melting into each other, casting a deep bloodred light on Tweek's gentle features.

A fresh breeze conducts a soothing orchestra of rustling pines and carries away the accompanying choir of various songbirds. The lush foliage surrounding the apartment seems to continue indefinitely; as far as the eye can see, there is the faintest glitter of a lake tucked behind immense rocky structures. The beauty of the Rocky Mountains is so overwhelming that he reflexively grasps the air for support.

He forgot that Craig isn't there to hold his hand anymore.

Only after the glass door slides open does Tweek realize he's been overcome by a surge of emotions. Tears blur his vision and he promptly lifts a hand to roughly squeeze the bridge of his nose in that same hopeless attempt to restrain the few tears that he knew would imminently roll down his unshaven face.

Luckily, it doesn't take him long to regain his composure, so when he turns to face his lover shortly thereafter there is a weak smile on his face.

"You're crying again."

Craig stands in the doorway, his expression blank. The only thing that stands out to Tweek is his observant gaze: pale eyes sparkle in the light like the surface of Stark's in the wintertime when it's frozen over and dusted with sheets of powdery ice.

"I was," Tweek confirms with a curt nod. He takes a step forward and _almost_ reaches out to touch the other's chest. It takes everything in him to force his hand to drop to his side while simultaneously fighting back a few tears threatening to well up in his eyes. Silently, Craig walks out onto the balcony and takes up a spot beside the blonde.

"I miss it, too," the taller of the two murmurs, "but there's no point in crying."

That's exactly something Craig would've said.

Craig is exactly like Tweek remembers him. Well, exactly like Tweek wants to remember him.

"And that's why I _was_ crying," the blonde responds with a playful grin, "keyword being 'was'. It - It wasn't even an actual, good cry. Just a couple tears. Not a cry."

Craig casts Tweek a sidelong glance and smiles slightly. It's the perfectly-aligned and pearly white smile Tweek had instantly fallen in love with at a time that now feels so long ago. It was, like the gentle deer that roam the forest just outside of the studio, a rare sight that was easily scared away. Tweek could honestly count on his fingers the number of times he had seen that smile throughout the three years they had been together.

"You're wearing that?" Tweek looks down at the tattered tee hanging from his body that Craig gestures at. "Aren't Wendy and Stan coming over?"

The blonde reflexively reaches for the pack of cigarettes that is usually tucked into the waistband of his underwear. When he realizes it is missing, he pulls the cigarette tucked behind his ear and slides it between his teeth. "At six, yeah."

"Oh, okay." Craig watches the flame produced by Tweek's lighter dance in the wind before curling into a thin column of smoke. As he slowly averts his eyes, he scratches a spot behind his ear and clears his throat. "I thought you didn't like five-minute showers though." He catches Tweek's brow raise through the corners of his eyes and can't help but bite back a small smile. "It's a quarter to six right now, babe."

In the blink of an eye, Tweek snatches an ashtray from the railing before he scrambles back into the apartment. The Beach Boys sing to him from across the room as he exits the bathroom about ten minutes later, and Craig is seated in the lounge chair beside their bed. He's fixated on whatever he's watching, which, at first glance, looks to be the recording of a live performance of some band.

Only after the blonde sidles up to his lover while towel-drying damp waves does he realize Craig isn't watching one of the performances he had filmed of just _any_ band. He is watching a live show featuring The Shivs - a '70s throwback band Tweek had started playing guitar for back in his freshman year of college.

"God," Tweek slowly shakes his head as his eyes follow the swaying figures on the screen, "this is - we were - that's so bad."

Looking up at the other, Craig cocks his brows and moves his lips soundlessly. His gaze grows distant for a beat or two like he has lost himself in a memory, and then he quickly fixes his eyes on Tweek yet again and grins.

"I met you at this gig right here - you remember?"

Before Tweek can respond there's a knock at the door. He has to force himself to answer it, otherwise, he would've remained in his spot, doing nothing but struggling not to break down in tears again. He's greeted with a warm embrace and then a firm pat on the shoulder as Stan and his girlfriend invite themselves into the apartment. When Tweek turns after shutting the door, he realizes he's under close examination. For whatever reason, he feels like a criminal being stared down during an interrogation and therefore finds himself slightly shrinking back.

"Did you..." Wendy lifts a finger, mouth agape as she continues to search his features, "you got thinner, didn't you?"

Tweek lets out a small sigh of relief and his muscles instantly relax as he gently shrugs. He looks down at the front of his tee, then looks back up at the couple. "I - I guess? Hah, haven't really been - I kind of stopped working out for a while after... Well, I don't know. Guess I did lose some weight, huh?" He suddenly turns and calls out for Craig, who greets Wendy and Stan with a brief wave before adding his own comment regarding Wendy's question:

"Only place he'll never lose weight is in that fat ass, though."

With a roll of his eyes, Tweek once again turns his attention to the couple while biting back a timid grin. "He sure knows how to flatter a guy, huh?"

An unspoken knowledge lingers in the air and moves Stan to shuffle in his spot uncomfortably. Wendy refuses to meet his gaze and instead clears her throat while she lets her gaze wander. Stan doesn't know why, but it pains him to see all the pictures of the blonde and his boyfriend hanging on the walls.

It's like... It's like he feels like they _shouldn't_ be there.

Nevertheless, he is quick to, in an attempt to ease the sudden tension in the room, step into the main section of the room and plop himself down on a stool beside the kitchen. Wendy follows suit, running her fingers along the marble countertop.

"How long've you had this place?" Stan asks. His eyes carefully follow the blonde as he sets a couple glasses down on their respective coasters. "Three years, right?"

"Yeah, three," Tweek speaks into the refrigerator. When he pulls away, there is a bottle of wine in his hand. "Craig and I wanted a place to ourselves, you know? Took his old man a while to let Craig off his leash - I mean, LA _is_ a 15-hour drive from here, but... He's here now, heh. So."

The way he says this is unsettling to Stan. It's said in passing; it's a comment that is said too casually to be appropriate given the circumstances. Wendy too is upset by Tweek's tone, and she again turns to Stan as she slides a hand over one of his.

They're walking on thin ice right now, though, and they know their words must be carefully chosen lest they unintentionally hurt Tweek.

"Wh - Uh... What's with the wine? Who did what?" Wendy chuckles nervously. She's unable to look up into the blonde's eyes as Tweek pours her a glass. Stan squeezes her hand and gives a small shake of his head, but his girlfriend is still clearly fighting the urge to call Tweek out right then and there. Tweek smiles brightly and turns the bottle in his hand.

"I got it for our five-year anniversary! Best three hundred bucks I could ever spend."

"Y... Your five-year anniversary..." Wendy slowly echoes, "Yours and... _Craig's_?"

Tweek instantly feels the need to shoot Craig a reassuring smile that says he's still as loyal as ever. Then he gives the couple a confused look as he parts his lips and forces out a disbelieving laugh. It's a look that tells them he thinks _they're_ the ones who are absolutely insane.

"Well, yeah! We always used to go to Napa after visiting his parents to celebrate our anniversary. And since we can't really... You know - go _together_ anymore, I bring the bottle here to Craig." Tweek dismissively responds while setting out various pastries. He's evidently very distracted as made clear by his aimless wandering after he lights his cigarette using the flame of a nearby candle. "H - Oh, hey - do you need me to turn that off?"

"Turn off...?" Stan asks, hesitating to turn around and look at whatever Tweek is referring to because there is nothing Tweek could possibly turn off in that general direction. "What are you...? What -"

"Craig is listening to music _while_ watching TV," Tweek sneers at his boyfriend playfully as he crosses the room and stands over the turntable, " _again._ "

Stan and Wendy can't believe their eyes. They swap worried glances more than once, and Wendy parts her lips a couple of times before sinking back down when she realizes logic isn't something Tweek is going to listen to.

"Oh, hey! Speaking of: remember the band, Stan?" An ecstatic grin quirks at the corners of the blonde's lips as he sits on the arm of the lounge chair Craig is in then gestures for the others to join them in the main section of the room. "Craig's watching one of our performances right now - can you imagine it? _That_ was us a little over four years ago. I... I know it's not always nice to remember it because... B-But!"

Stan almost doesn't want to get up. Wendy clearly doesn't either. Still, he plays along and forces a weak smile on his face as he stands and leads Wendy by the hand towards the bed.

But it's hard to play along when there's nothing to play along with. The TV isn't even on. Tweek is intently watching a pitch-black screen.

"... Oh..." Stan slowly starts. He genuinely doesn't know what to say. He _wants_ to tell Tweek what is on both his and Wendy's minds, but he can't find it in himself. Tweek is obviously still extremely shaken up about... It. But it's come to a point where he's not just in denial anymore. It's way beyond that, and it's absolutely heartwrenching to watch. "... Yeah. H.. How could I forget? You hooked Wendy and me up through the band. Sh... She was a part of your vegan, tree-hugger club, right?"

" _Greenpeace_ ," Wendy corrects, her voice breaking and thick with tears as she hangs her head.

"Craig and I met through the band! We were just talking about that - weren't we, baby?" Tweek leans in close enough to press his forehead against Craig's and chuckles lightly. "You always used to keep insisting on getting a couple pictures of me with my guitar for an interview - an interview, might I mention, that never actually happened. And - And I was stupid enough to think you actually wanted _photos._ Man... You were always so weird. Heh, you - you still are!" The blonde turns to the utterly horrified couple staring back at him. "Let me tell you - just the other day, Craig told me the most insane story about his day. How did it start, huh? Something about... Ah, I don't remember. But it was insane, right? Y-Yeah! And..."

Tweek's voice quickly fades out as Stan's companion drones on. He's retelling some witty anecdote, but not to Stan and Wendy. It's heartbreaking to see how bad he truly is even after two years.

Wendy can't take it any longer. Watching Tweek go off like this - talking to 'Craig' when, really, he's talking to himself - it... It isn't right. It brings tears to her eyes, and she simply cannot allow this to go on any longer. Both Wendy and Stan have waited long enough for Tweek to say what all three of them already know, but he is clearly in deep denial and can't even accept the fact that... That...

"Tweek..." Wendy murmurs softly, brows knitting together as she reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, "Craig... Craig is dead."

It's as if the whole world stops at that very moment. Stan holds his breath after seeing Tweek's body instantly go rigid. Wendy's eyes widen, and she parts her lips as if she quickly regrets what she'd said. After an uncomfortably long moment of silence, though, Tweek finally turns his body to fully face them. There's a sickly-sweet smile on his face, a smile so utterly sickening Wendy practically begins sobbing once she sees it.

"I know." He simply grunts, and without another word, he rises and returns to the kitchen to pour himself another glass of wine.


	2. He's A Sitting Swan Now

I wanted to thank you guys for the faves/follows/reviews! I'm totally excited about this fic, so I'm glad it's getting all this positive feedback thus far.

That being said, I'm going to **try** to stay on top of this.

But I'm Queen of Procrastination™ and can't promise anything. (o;

* * *

"Craig and I always went into the Rockies whenever he came to visit. Always. From our first date to our last, we were always in the forest together. I'm pretty sure he knew I had some weird attachment to it, so he always insisted on our spending time up there together.

Sometimes we'd go with Stan and the guys - play a couple songs, go skinny dipping, crack open a few beers - stuff like that, y'know? But sometimes it'd be just him and me. I'll never forget the time we spent together in those woods...

Whether you care to believe it or not, Craig was an artist. I think, with my being a guitarist and all, it was easier for me to see that his photography wasn't _just_ photography to him, but... Um - Yeah. Craig... He - He really was an artist.

Most photographs capture a moment in time, but Craig was able to capture an entire lifetime through his works. He had this one photograph in his portfolio that, at first glance, was a very simple picture - boring, even. Uh... The first time he had showed it to me was after our third date, but he... He gave it to me a few weeks before he had... _You know_.

It was a black and white photograph of a swan that was about to take flight.

First off, I strongly believe that swans should be the universal symbol of true love.

My dad had once taken me on a business trip to Ontario, and one of the biggest highlights of that trip was seeing a pair of swans floating across a lake. It was the first time I'd ever questioned a phrase that I was already quite familiar with: 'I love you.'

I mean... Those birds were so graceful and in-sync with one another. And the way they danced this intricate choreography like it was nothing at all? _Man -_ I - I'd never seen anything like it before. I had asked my dad if he loved my mom as much those birds loved each other, and he asked me if _I_ thought _I_ would ever love someone the way those birds loved each other.

I used to think Craig showed me that picture to prove a point. We were both young and stupid, anyway. What better way to tell your boyfriend that you love him than by showing a picture of a swan, right?

Well...

I kept leaving out an important part of the photograph.

Swans typically form lifelong bonds with their partners. The swan in the picture was alone and clearly mourning. Every day, Craig told me, it would show up at a regular time and swim around the entire lake and look for its partner. This went on for more than three months, Craig was told, but he said he had been observing it for only a week before it flew off and never returned.

You'd think that this was nothing out of the ordinary since swans usually migrated around that time whether they have a partner or not. But this swan was, in a sense, heartbroken. It stayed well into the migration season to wait for its partner. I... I guess something made it realize that its partner wouldn't be coming back. Finally, it made the final decision to migrate on its own.

I... I know there was a message behind it all. The fact that Craig died a week after he had given me the photograph tells me there was a message behind it all..."

Tweek trails off. He is in tears again. He says he needs to stand up and gather his thoughts. He leaves the room for a moment, and muffled sobs can be heard from the other side of the door. When he returns, he takes his seat again and clears his throat, unable to pry bloodshot eyes away from the ground.

"You okay? We can stop this at any time. I know this is a very sensitive subject to talk about."

"No, no. I... I like talking about him. Heh... Hell, I like talking about him _with_ him."

"Alright. Can we go back to the forest? It seems like you both drew closer to one another because of your individual attachments to it. Tell me more about your connection with the forest."

"Oh, yeah. I'll never know why, but Craig really loved this one river that ran through the Rockies. He never said so specifically, but I knew he always looked forward to seeing that river. And I don't blame him - it's a beautiful river. Everything about it is so perfect.

I think it always reminds me of him, somehow. Or - y-yeah. Erm - His _eyes,_ specifically. It reminds me of his eyes.

There was this one time we'd gone into the forest together that has always stuck with me. I don't know whether this is a good memory or a bad one, but...

It was late December, so the sun was already down by 6 o'clock. It was freezing out and we were soaked. I don't know - Craig had said _something_ about the river and before I could even think we were both buck-naked and huddling close together in the water. We found our way back to the riverbed, of course, but it was still a stupid idea all-in-all.

I - I still won't ever be able to forgive myself for not saying anything earlier. I could've prevented everything.

If it weren't for me, Craig - Oh, God - If... If it weren't for me, Craig would s-still be with me today."

Tweek is obviously trying to remain calm. He raises the loose fist his fingers have curled into and drops it on his knee a couple times, but nothing prevents those tears from brimming his eyes once again. Suddenly, he doubles over and clutches his stomach, shoulders heaving as he silently shakes his head. This goes on for no more than three minutes. It is unbelievable to see how quickly he is able to recuperate.

"... I-I'm sorry. U-Um... Where was I? Uh...

Oh, right. Back to the riverbed. Well, next thing I knew, we were laying forehead to forehead while sharing afterglow kisses and giggling like schoolgirls. Crickets were chirping so loud I could barely hear my own thoughts, let alone his stories about our future together. He talked about the both of us like we were already in our mid-thirties.

Then his head was on my lap as he puffed away at one cigarette after the next. _God_ , did I hate those things.

But the way he looked at me that night... I'll never forget that either. It was the first time I realized he loved me. I mean, I _knew_ that already - we threw those three words around so much on a daily basis that they should have lost meaning - but... I could see it in his eyes that he was undeniably mesmerized. It made me feel like I was some priceless artifact he'd treasure forever and ever.

I, on the other hand, completely lost myself in his enchanting gaze. I was stranded in the middle of a clear blue sea one second, then I was free-falling through a cloudless sky. And yet, as stressful as it should've been, I was fully at ease in both situations.

I guess I had never realized Craig made me feel very secure. Whenever he was around, I just felt... Well, yeah. I knew I would never have to worry about him leaving if ever he got tired of me. He was like that river. I knew it'd always be there, and he made sure I knew he would always be there.

"Do you like me?" he asked me.

I didn't know what to think of the question at the time. It was asked out of the blue and it was... Well - It was weird! We weren't in middle school, after all - we had been dating for three long years!"

"What do you think he meant when he asked you that?"

"H - What do I think? I... I didn't think anything, I think. I... told him I did, because I did! He used this as a segway into yet another story. I regret not listening to half the things he said now, but...

He'd told me that in order to get one perfect photograph, he first needed to take 1,000 bad ones.

I know he wasn't giving me tips that would help me improve my own photography, though. He was referring to previous relationships. And in the same way... With things being the way they are now...

Maybe... Maybe I shouldn't be shutting people out. Better yet... Maybe I should...

Ah, I don't know. I have never been a deep-thinker like he was.

Anyway.

I don't think it had ever occurred to me that that would be the last time Craig and I left the forest together."


	3. Wicked Waters

Tweek is being driven down a road that seems to stretch out indefinitely. One long line of pines melts together into one blurred image that resembles the smudges on the windowpanes of the shop that Tweek has to wipe down at the end of every long shift.

Idle chatter and laughter surround him. He can see lips moving, but it's one thing for him to be actively listening and another for him to simply hear a voice drone on like the trill buzz of white noise. He knows for a fact that most of the conversation is directed towards him, though.

When Tweek had first met Craig, he immediately assumed Craig wasn't much of an outdoorsy person at all. Craig was a city boy, after all: born and raised in Southern California. Hell, Craig had never seen the fiery oranges, yellows, and reds of fall leaves until his first hike through the Rockies with Tweek. Nonetheless, Tweek stood corrected as he watched his city boy scale the steep inclines and rugged terrain almost as expertly as a rock climber with decades of experience would.

It only makes sense that the woods were Tweek's sanctuary back then. But now?

Now they are just a graveyard full of abandoned memories, and Stan is driving him straight into it.

The moment Tweek sets foot on rich soil, nostalgia hits hard like a slap in the face he sees coming but doesn't move away from. He wants to drop to his knees and start bawling right there, but he knows that the only reason Stan brought him way out here is to prove to the rest of the group that Tweek isn't okay. He remembers the way Stan and Wendy were looking at him the entire time they visited him no less than a week prior, after all.

This isn't a bonfire - it's an intervention.

A river winds its way through the forest, and from the frothing rapids emanates a thrumming sound like the steady rumble of a drumroll. It is the rhythmic sound of war, and it perfectly captures the anger this raging river expresses. Chords of soft light spear down from above and bathe its surface in gold. It is glinting with little sparkles that flicker like embers shooting out of a fire. It draws Tweek closer, oddly. He doesn't remember the river ever being this threatening, but he assumes that the fact that Craig isn't around right now has something to do with it. He can only imagine the waters instantly calming as Craig slowly approaches the edge of the river.

 _He stands tall - almost as tall as the massive pines all around him. His powerful stance makes him just as awe-inspiring, and his hair rustles in the wind like the leaves of the trees do. Tanned skin glows as a harsh light glares down at him, giving him an angelic and golden aura. The river instantly humbles itself in his presence, and so too Tweek feels this instinctive need to prostrate himself. The squirrels no longer chirp at one another and the prancing mocking jay has discontinued his elaborate song so as to give Craig his undue attention. Even the speckled trout that arch their bodies into the air and hover briefly pause their carefully coordinated ballet in order to gaze upon Craig._

 _Tweek can only admire his lover from a distance, for he fears he may disrupt the peace that Craig has established throughout the entire forest if he moves at all. Craig takes a step forward and then another. His long legs move as gracefully as do the swift legs of a mighty buck patrolling the woods. It is a magical sight, indeed, and it seems as though all the creatures of the forest watch intently as Craig then dives into the river. His figure quickly disappears under the shadowed depths, leaving behind glittering ripples that hurdle over the river's boulders. Twigs twirl on its murmuring surface, little messengers from the mountain trees where they have come from, but still Craig has not surfaced._

 _Tweek is beginning to fear the worst. He cannot move from his spot - he can only watch the babbling brook, like the subtle sweep of a painter's brush, lick the pebbled riverbed from which Craig stood only moments ago._

Suddenly, a hand slaps Tweek's back, snapping him out of the daze-like stupor he has fallen into. The blonde nearly cries out in horror, blinking hard as he looks from Jimmy's smiling face to the riverbed. The latter is quick to slide his arm back into its respective crutch. He might not realize it, but Jimmy has become a living personification of Tweek's nagging grief.

"W-W-Woah. You a-alright?" Jimmy asks. Tweek immediately feels his hair bristle and his muscles tense up. Jimmy takes note of the wild look he is given in return and cocks his brows, holding his hands out in the same way that a hiker would when slowly backing away from a provoked predator. "H-Hey - It's alright. Y-Y... You looked like y-y-you saw a g-ghost, th-that's all."

Tweek pries his eyes off of the man hunched beside him and licks his lips before clearing his throat. That defensive look he was quick to put on slowly melts away, as does the tension in Tweek's broad shoulders.

"S-Sorry..." he mutters, his voice barely audible. "I was - I blanked out for a moment. I - I'm good."

"... No, y-you aren't." Tweek is taken aback by Jimmy's stern tone. Again has he reflexively balled his hands into tight fists at his sides as he struggles to swallow the thick lump already forming in his throat. They are ready to deal a couple nose-shattering blows if Jimmy is not careful about what he says. "I m-miss him too, but I-I-I've m... I've moved on, Tweek. Th-There's nothing you can do that will bring Craig b-back..."

A half-circle of individuals now surrounds the men and everyone is listening attentively. Tweek opens his mouth and exhales sharply as he simultaneously takes a step backward. He is trapped, like a cornered fox that is surrounded by a group of hunters and their snarling dogs, and he doesn't like it at all. Nevertheless, he has no choice but to take a seat across from Stan.

"... You can't keep running, Tweek. You're obviously still hurting, and we all hate to see that you're hurting. But we can't help you unless we know you'll cooperate. So... Just... Help us help _you_ , Tweek."

The rest of the group shares a unanimous nod of their heads and there is a collected murmur amongst them.

Stan is so full of shit. But before Tweek can even think about snarling those exact words, Wendy prods in, and thus those four dreaded words are spoken aloud:

"We're concerned about you."

Stan obviously planned all of this out ahead of time, and so he has Jimmy talk for a good twenty minutes about how he's been dealing with the aftermath of the accident. Then Clyde and Bebe give their take on Tweek's situation. Then Wendy talks some more. It's all extremely redundant - Jimmy says something about moving on, and then Clyde says the same thing five minutes later, and then Bebe feels the need to support Clyde and so _she_ repeats the same thing _two more_ times. Tweek stopped listening after Bebe had started talking, and once again finds himself daydreaming about Craig and the river.

 _Tweek is seated on the decaying corpse of a fallen tree and has swiveled his body around to focus on the river flowing behind himself. Craig hasn't come up yet, not that he's seen, and Tweek is far beyond restless._

 _Sure enough, though, his knight in shining armor comes trotting along, gallant and majestic like the faithful steed that accompanies a knight. He approaches the group, confusion written all over his face, and takes up a seat beside the blonde. The droplets of moisture that rain down upon Tweek as Craig tousles thick, dark waves provide a coolness that fights against the warmth of the sun. He grins and places a strong palm on Tweek's knee._

 _It's the first time in a long time Tweek has experienced any sort of touch of the like, and it proves to be too good to be true._

 _Craig quickly pulls his hand away and furrows his brows._

 _"Tweek?"_

 _That's all he can say. How good it is to hear his voice again - it is velvety and smooth, like melting honey._

 _"Tweek?"_

 _He repeats. Then again, and then twice more._

"Tweek, what's wrong?"

Jimmy once again pulls Tweek back into reality, all to the blonde's dismay. All eyes are on him once again, and he barely manages to cough up a weak, "H-Huh?"

"... You were seeing Craig again, weren't you?"

That same unspoken knowledge that had lingered in the air between Stan and Wendy back during their visit leaves everyone watching the blonde pitifully. Tweek stirs in his spot and locks his jaw, turning briefly to check that Craig truly had gone away before examining the faces of all those looking back at him.

"... It wasn't Craig. I - Yeah, I was, but... I-It wasn't him. It couldn't have been him. You all _know_ Craig can't leave the studio anymore. As a ghost, he's tied to the apartment, a-and so - It - It wasn't Craig."

" _Ghost?_ " Bebe echoes, a jeering and derisive laughter evidently dancing in her crystal blue eyes. Wendy nearly smacks her on account of how rude she is, but Clyde quickly intervenes and squeezes one of Bebe's thighs. It's the only way he knows how to distract her, and yet even he finds himself secretly mocking Tweek. The blonde is now on his feet and now has his back turned to the rest of the group as he slowly nears the riverbed.

"Right. Craig's ghost is living with me. I-It's not at all the same as before, but... But it's much better than not having Craig at all."

Nobody knows how to tackle this because nobody expected it. Tweek has gone completely off the rails, that's a sure fact. Stan struggles to speak up, and he is evidently groping his mind for, really, _anything_ to say at this point. Finally, Jimmy comes to the rescue and tries reasoning with the blonde.

"... Do you really th-think that's a healthy thought to be cultivating, T-T-Tweek? We're not telling you that you _c_ - _can't_ grieve but... But _this_? S-S-Surely there's _some_ other way, r-right?"

"Y-Yeah! There's gotta be another way, right? Tweek? ... Are you even listening, Tweek?"

Of course Tweek isn't listening. He's much more fascinated by whatever he seems to be able to see in the rapids. They've drawn him closer yet again, and now he stands at the edge of the river and watches the surges of icy cold water pool up over the wiggling toes of his boots. He doesn't struggle at all; there a sort of comfort in feeling the water fill his boots and pull him closer.

Before anyone can react and without warning does Tweek dive head-first into the river.

The impact itself is enough to knock him unconscious. There's instantly a throbbing pain in his temples, and his head bobs above water a couple times and he catches faint glimpses of the onlooking crowd that has huddled around the bank of the river.

Once again, lips are moving and yet he hears none of the shrieks of Wendy or Bebe. As a matter of fact, he cannot hear anything.

His boots are suddenly made of lead and continue to drag him deeper. The fact that he's fighting against the river - the fact that he's persistently trying to go upstream rather than allow it to float him to a safer spot - doesn't help at all.

Clawing at the light that quickly fades out of view proves to be a hopeless waste of energy and the act is thereafter deemed futile because, hard as he tries, those swift paddles of his arms will never be able to evade the crushing pain that follows him wherever he goes.

He can no longer breathe: his throat has closed up and a burning sensation sears his nostrils as if he's just swallowed a couple red hot coals. He continues flailing about while choking out half-sob-half-coughs that bubble forth and clutches at his tightened chest as the oxygen rapidly seeps out him.

It's the same exact feeling that had overcome him the moment he got the news of Craig's death.

His consciousness is quickly slipping out of his grasp now, and he is quickly surrounded by darkness. He's stopped fighting it because he knows this is it. He knows this is it, and he is steadfast in the belief that this will all be worth it because, soon enough, he'll be able to hold Craig in his arms again.

When he awakens, _someone_ is holding him in their arms. Unfortunately, instead of being greeted by a pair of beautiful baby blues, Bebe violently shakes his limp body.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She screams. Both Clyde and Stan have to pry her off of Tweek, who hacks up a couple lungfuls of water before propping himself up. He's disoriented and drowsy and groans after gingerly placing a hand on his head. When he pulls it away, there is blood on his palm.

"Seriously, dude," Stan crouches in front of the blonde, his brows knit together, "what the hell was that? You nearly killed yourself!"

Tweek looks into Stan's eyes for an uncomfortably long beat or two, prompting the other to blink and then reluctantly turn his head to the side. Tweek's breath has finally returned to its regular pace, and he moves his lips wordlessly. Everyone is eagerly awaiting his response, but it seems as though they share one collected sigh of disappointment when he asks:

"Have you ever been caught in a riptide?"

Stan is just as puzzled as the rest of the group is. Still, he must answer, albeit reluctantly.

"N... No? Wh-"

"Craig told me he surfed in California. I could tell he liked it, too. M-Maybe even as much as he loved his photography." Tweek pauses, as if for emphasis, and looks to the ground. "... He... He tried teaching me once, and the very first time I swam in that ocean, I got caught in a riptide. Thankfully, I took the leash off before I paddled out, and -

Well, y-you're supposed to swim parallel to a riptide, but I was so afraid. I - I didn't know what to do! Craig was gone and I was all alone. And so I swam against that current. I swam as hard as I could.

He - He _told_ me not to swim against the current, but I-I... I did it anyway. I don't know why I did it... B-But I did. I swam against that riptide until I felt like my arms and legs were about to fall off. And if I was _still_ in that riptide today, I'd swim against it. No matter what. If a lifeguard happened to try and pull me back to shore, I-I'd only be back in the rip a few minutes later. I - Nobody can pull me out of that rip except myself, because I put myself in it, and I don't care whether it means I drown or not."

Stan's eyes are wide with amazement, as are the eyes of everyone listening, and Tweek's message is therefore heard loud and clear.


	4. He's Not Ready To Migrate

Finally got some spare time to finish another chapter of this depressing fic! And just in time for finals too! (Thank the lord.)

Again: I really appreciate all the faves/follows/reviews you guys! Please feel free to give **ANY** feedback/thoughts/literally anything because I'm truly just wingin' it at this point, man.

BTW - since I know nearly everyone's stress levels are through the roof because of finals/midterms, I'd like to wish y'all the best of luck on your exams!

* * *

The Tweak Bros. Coffeehouse location in South Park has been given quite the makeover since Tweek was promoted to manager back in the early 2000s. The most significant renovation Tweek has done on the structure is adding a second story. The upper level was initially meant to be a photography studio for Craig, but it's now become a combination of a showcasing of Craig's works, a downsized library, and an additional area where students attending the local community college go to study for their midterms. It has definitely reeled in a lot of business and yet Tweek views it more as a curse rather than a blessing nowadays.

Other than that, he hasn't replaced the airy decorum from a decade that is now stowed away within the archives of the minds of Baby Boomers - much like a lot of small businesses in South Park during the era of gentrification have done - but, rather, has simply refurbished the establishment to fit modern standards in terms of aesthetics.

Tweek has come a long way since he was an inexperienced 19-year-old high school graduate who was hardly ready to be shipped off to college. Then again, a lot of things _have_ happened over the last eight years.

Every week for the past five and a half weeks, Tweek and Kenny McCormick have been getting together to discuss various topics. Kenny is hoping to major in psychology and, according to him, their sessions are his way of gaining his required hours of experience. For the most part, Tweek only ever wants to talk about the past; Craig is the main subject of most of their conversations. Kenny and Tweek met through a friend, Tweek thinks. He felt an instant attraction to the younger blonde, though it has never been the mutual romantic attraction Kenny seems to think it is, and so time has flown by since they first began talking.

Ike Broflovski and Georgie Smith, two individuals Tweek has watched grow into _fine_ young men, have been more than glad to take over for Tweek while he attends his therapy sessions. Ike had taken up a summer job at Tweek Bros. nearly three years prior and had quickly gained Tweek's trust. This was because Tweek had become a fill-in for the older brother Ike had lost to Princeton. They'd developed a rather close bond, and it was easy for Ike to see that Tweek has not been able to cope with Craig's death even to this day. Even Georgie worries about Tweek's well-being more often than not.

On this occasion, a good chunk of the 'fifty' minutes that Tweek got for each session has been wasted by Tweek's reluctance to climb the winding staircase so that they could have more privacy upstairs. Whether he cares to believe it or not, Tweek has only gotten worse since his little performance in the forest a couple weeks ago.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kenny asks regarding the intervention Stan had held for Tweek, brows cocked expectantly.

"No," Tweek blatantly grunts and uncomfortably stirs in his spot. His eyes drift from photograph to photograph until the tears are too thick to see through.

"Okay," Kenny nods, "that's okay. Tell me what's wrong, then."

Tweek jerks his head to the side while sharply inhaling through his teeth. The heels of his loafers click against the hardwood flooring as he mindlessly bounces a restless knee. "I... I-I don't know what's wrong."

"Well, obviously _something's_ wrong. Is it the pictures?" Kenny suddenly turns in his seat to look back at the framed photographs hanging on the wall. Then, without another word, he stands up and walks over to one of them. "Is it this one? The one with you and the VW bus? Man... Was that yours?"

"Oh, God," the older male suddenly cries out and fell forward as he hides his face in his palms.

Kenny watches the other in silence and draws in a deep breath, thereafter releasing it as a sigh as he turns his head and examines the photograph.

 _Tweek beams brightly at the camera. A gorgeous, sea foam green Strat is strapped to his left shoulder. He looks terrible: the deep shadows beneath his eyes do anything but complement his crystalline green eyes, a deep crimson is burned into chiseled cheekbones, and sweat plasters his otherwise disheveled blonde locks to his forehead._

 _Stan stands beside him, clutching his electric blue Les Paul like it is a squirming infant, as does Leo Stotch - the Shivs' bassist - who has his back turned to the camera in order to show off the Squier P bass that is nearly his size, and Jimmy, hidden behind the two guitarists, holds two drumsticks up rather than the crutches he now sports. Craig is trying to get Leo to stand closer to the rest of the band, and Stan is growing restless._

 _Tweek really shouldn't have been around the rest of the band. He shouldn't have been outside period. Still, Craig really wanted a picture of the members of the Shivs all together. This was going to be Leo's last gig with the guys, after all, because he was going to be moving to London to study abroad for a year after the end of their second semester of sophomore year._

"It's all my fault, Kenny," Tweek's voice disrupts the little scene the photograph sets. He's standing beside Kenny now and has his arms wrapped around himself insecurely. Unable to bring himself to take his eyes off of the photograph, the ever-flowing stream of tears running down freckled cheeks never ceases to dry up. "If it weren't for me - if I hadn't been so goddamn _stupid_ , C-Craig... He'd still be with me today."

Kenny studies Tweek's features for a short moment, then directs the two of them back to the coffee table they were previously sitting at. Once he's calmed Tweek's nerves once again, the patient blonde gets comfortable in his own seat before asking: "... Can we try something new, Tweek?"

That word - "new" - has always made Tweek flinch. It makes him think about times when Stan wanted Tweek to learn new riffs that seemed to be impossible for human hands to play or about when Craig used to say that Tweek needed to buy a new pair of jeans because his current pair was looking kind of tight - and not in a good way. Change makes him uncomfortable. Tweek has always believed that there is nothing wrong with the "old" no matter how someone may put it.

Still, he can't help but let the ghost of a whisper pass his lips: "Y... Yeah, sure."

"I want to talk about _you_ today, okay? Let's... Let's forget about Craig for right now, and let's focus these next fifty minutes on _you._ "

"N-No..." Tweek instantly refuses with a firm shake of his head. If there's one thing he hates more than change it's himself. Especially after Craig's death. "I don't want to do that."

"Is there something you're hiding? Is that what's bothering you? What's _been_ bothering you?" Kenny raises his brows, blue eyes locked on Tweek. He shrugs and then grabs his coffee mug, pulling it to his lips before taking a long drink. When he sets the mug back down, he's still staring into Tweek, and it's the type of stare that makes Tweek melt. Tweek doesn't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. "I don't need an autobiography Tweek." Kenny leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, eyes narrowing. "Who are you, Tweek?"

Oh, God. Tweek hasn't felt this type of pressure since the very first time he and Craig had had sex. _Sober,_ heartfelt lovemaking, that is. Kenny's gaze makes him feel naked - and it's been a _very_ long time since he's been anywhere near naked in front of anyone - and so it's an especially nerve-racking feeling. Kenny is asking to see _all_ of Tweek - the good and the bad, the attractive and not-so-attractive aspects, and every nook and cranny that even Tweek tries to push to the back of his mind so he never has to think about. And somehow this wasn't right because Kenny is not _Craig._

"... I'm... I'm Tweek Tweak," Tweek starts uneasily as if he isn't sure that the information he's about to disclose is true, "... Son of Richard Tweak, CEO of the Tweak Bros. Coffeehouse corporate chain. Big stuff, man. But... I'll be, uh, 27 in... Well, shit, in a few months from now. I studied at the University of Denver and got my bachelor's in business management. Um..." He looks to Kenny hopelessly. There's not much for him to talk about, for he feels he's not an interesting individual in any sense of the word.

"Tell me about your hobbies. Hell, tell me about things you would like to turn into hobbies." Kenny once again leans inward and beams the friendliest grin Tweek has ever seen. It seems like the room is slowly closing in on the two; Kenny has gotten very close and Tweek was just now realizing it. "I want to hear about your likes and dislikes and your passions and dreams."

"O-Oh..." Tweek looks down at the palm Kenny has rested on his knee. The touch itself is soothing, but it's been such a long time that he's forgotten how to react to these advances. Either way, Tweek chooses to focus on the fact that he's craving nicotine badly right now rather than think about Kenny wanting to fuck him. "I... I'm a musician, so... That's a passion-slash-hobby of mine. I appreciate music's ability to capture feelings I wouldn't be able to express through words. Like... Making music is so intimate - almost as intimate as sex itself, r-right? It becomes something that you'd want to protect or guard with your life. It becomes almost... Almost _tangible,_ in a sense. I..." Tweek's voice fades as he looks to Kenny, who is staring right back at him yet again. Now Tweek thinks he's going insane because Kenny's face is nearly close enough to Tweek's that the older blonde can practically taste his breath. It's almost as intoxicating as a drag from a cigarette is, and Tweek can't help but let his eyelids flutter shut as he breathes the other's minty air in.

"Don't stop," Kenny practically murmurs against Tweek's lips. But before either of them are given a second chance to think, they've been locked into a kiss so dreamily loving and gentle that even Tweek understands pulling away would be exactly like disrupting the majestic scene with Craig in the forest. Tongues aren't quick to begin a fierce wrestling match; instead, they gracefully dance in such a way that Tweek must hold onto Kenny's shoulders lest he rapidly melts away.

Like a drop of blood in a glass of milk does a deep blush burn into Tweek's cheeks as skilled hands start exploring his body. They travel south as his body is rocked to and fro, and when he opens his eyes to gaze into a pair of glittering blue eyes, he finds himself stroking back soft, dark hair. The passionate kiss is deepened as a strong hand palms his aching groin, evoking a few stifled groans from both males.

"Craig..." Tweek croaks through gentle sighs more than once. His name is called out in that insanely erotic and nasal voice only once or twice - which is all Tweek needs to be set on edge. Only Craig knows how to unravel Tweek and thereby drive him crazy in the best possible way.

Except the Craig that Tweek is letting fondle him currently is actually Kenny.

Both of the blondes are visibly disappointed by this abrupt reality check, which has been brought about by the sudden phone call Tweek is receiving. Nonetheless, the older blonde awkwardly scuffles off of Kenny's lap before freezing in his spot once he reads the name of the contact calling. Kenny is too frustrated to question the other blonde's change in disposition right away, but Tweek's greeting definitely catches his attention:

"... C-Craig?"

"Hey."

There's an uncomfortably long silence that follows. Tweek is too shocked to say anything and so Kenny can't get any answers from him. 'Craig' - who Tweek has already convinced himself is just some asshole playing an insensitive prank on him - doesn't seem to mind this silence.

"Craig," Tweek finally echoes. The air has been knocked out of his lungs, making it extremely hard to speak. "Where are you? How did you get this phone?"

"You need to stop this, Tweek. I want you to stop."

Tweek goes pale as his eyebrows furrow. "S... Stop what, Craig? I... I'm confused! H - Who are you with? W-Why aren't you with me? Wh - _Please!_ Can you just-"

"No, Tweek. _You_ need to accept the fact that I'm not in your life anymore, okay? I don't want to be any part of this. You need to stop bringing me into everything. I'm destroying everything that matters to you - can't you see?"

" _You_ are everything that matters to me, Craig! Why won't you tell me-"

"I'm not there, Tweek. I'm not anywhere, remember?"

"B-But you _are_ here now! Craig - oh, my God-" Within moments, the tears have welled up in Tweek's eyes again as he clutches the phone in both hands. Kenny is too confused to do anything because he's now worried that Tweek isn't simply 'another grieving adult' but that he might have some serious mental issues.

"Don't cry, Tweek. Please don't. I... I just want you to be happy." There's another pause, but this one doesn't last half as long as the first. "I love you."

The call is ended instantly, and this becomes the first time Tweek has ever failed to return an "I love you" to Craig.

Kenny is left speechless. Tweek is uncontrollably sobbing while hopelessly trying to redial the number. Ike stands at the top of the staircase behind them, a tray with two steaming mugs of coffee in his arms. His eyes flit back and forth from Tweek's trembling figure to Kenny's obvious - and neglected - erection a couple of times before he clears his throat.

"I don't think he's ready for that yet, Kenny."


	5. Last Christmas

MERRY CHRISTMAS! I almost _didn't_ post this on Christmas because it's seriously freaking sad.

On a lighter note: what's up with the Kenny hate? I **LOVE** it! Poor Kenny's being cockblocked not only by Tweek but by the readers as well (,:

* * *

The slow and steady trickle of ice cold water darkens Tweek's hair and rolls off of his back. Goosebumps dimple his skin and the only thing that provides relief from the cold is the cigarette he puffs away at.

He knows that Craig is on the other side of that shower curtain silently scolding him for smoking this early in the morning. He also knows that Craig is currently very unhappy with him, although he doesn't know why this is the case. Well... He keeps telling himself that he doesn't know why this is the case.

Craig trails after the blonde like a column of cigarette smoke as Tweek exits the restroom. He is light on his feet, as if he is treading on uneven terrain, and remains silent until Tweek is dressed.

"Why do you always do that?" Craig strokes the wool sweater Tweek sets aside for him. Much like reaching for a seatbelt whenever he sits down is a mindless action, it is a force of habit that Tweek _still_ digs their matching ugly Christmas sweaters out every year on Christmas day.

Tweek freezes in his spot and gives Craig that 'I'm not ready for this' look that tells Craig that Tweek turns everything into some overly-complicated test. His voice is barely audible when he speaks: "Do what?"

" _That,_ " Craig throws his arms up and steps closer, "Think. You always think too much, babe. Why?"

Tweek doesn't answer; he has now chosen not to listen to Craig at this moment. There's so much pressure in his head that it seems possible that his eyes might burst.

Ideally, he would have been out of the apartment nearly an hour ago. To be entirely honest, though, attending the annual family reunion held in Utah has become nothing more than an additional chore without Craig. If _anyone_ were to ask, Tweek would simply say that he prefers staying home and watching old home videos with Craig. The alternative sounds a lot better than having to deal with Mr. Tucker, who to this very day still pretends that Tweek was one of Craig's colleagues despite the fact that those scowls of disapproval evidently tell Tweek that Craig's father is very well aware of the fact that his son had been having sex with other men.

Needless to say, Tweek finally finds himself shoving his heels into his boots as he holds onto the doorframe of the front door.

"Hey," Craig grunts while rising to his feet in order to bid his lover a proper farewell. Tweek soon stands straight up, arms full of wrapped presents and gift bags for various members of both the Tweak and Tucker families.

"Hey," Tweek weakly smiles, but it looks more like the sad face of a timid puppy, "I'm leaving." Usually, they'd both be dressed and ready to walk out of the door. If Tweek isn't careful he'll start thinking about all the things that are wrong with this scene and then he'll start crying. And the last thing he needs is to be smothered by his mother the moment he arrives.

Craig examines the presents in Tweek's arms and hums softly. If he could, he'd drag a thumb between Tweek's eyebrows in order to get rid of the despondent crease in the blonde's forehead. "Get rid of that," he responds, "don't worry about it. It'll be fun." He's being sarcastic now and the smile on his face prompts Tweek to smile back. However, the blonde's spirits are not at all lifted, so Craig must continue: "Your folks are fun. Christmas is fun. At least try to have a good time for me, okay?"

Reluctantly, Tweek nods his head and stirs in his spot. Before he can register the following words floating in his head does he ask: "You'll be here when I come back, right?"

Craig steps forward and curtly nods. "You _are_ going to come back, right?" He's only teasing and Tweek understands that the question he'd asked was entirely unnecessary, but there's a sort of vague seriousness behind the question that makes Tweek wince. With another lopsided grin, Tweek then turns on his heels and waddles across the porch. Craig is still standing in the doorway when Tweek climbs into the driver's seat, and the blonde looks up one last time just as Craig calls out: "Drive safe - and stop thinking about things so much."

"I love you," Tweek shouts back after rolling the window down and sticking his torso out, his voice breaking. He seems to pause for an uncomfortably long moment as if he is expecting Craig to say it back, but by this time Craig has already gone back into the studio. "I love you," Tweek once again repeats once he has slid back into his seat and tightly wrapped his hands around the steering wheel. He squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back, then falls forward and a couple of tears stain the dark denim of his jeans. An entire hour must have passed before he turns on the ignition, pulls out of the driveway, and nearly gets killed by a white Transit van.

Six hours is nothing at all in relation to the 26 years Tweek has been alive for. Needless to say, in a stuffy old Volvo station wagon without Craig, six hours can seem to last an entire lifetime. Tweek is left alone with all of his thoughts, and he has never been used to hearing multiple voices simultaneously droning on as he rolls down one long stretch of highway. More than once had he been tempted to jerk the wheel to the side after he gradually watched his speed climb from 70 to 80 to 90 miles per hour.

In less than thirty seconds, Tweek is transported back to his childhood as he walks up the icy driveway of an immense cabin decorated with twinkling lights and a reindeer-drawn sled from which Santa greets him with a wave. He watches his ten-year-old self shoot out of the backseat of Dad's old Honda before sprinting through the snow, a bright smile spread from one rosy cheek to the other as he attempts to outrun his companions. In a matter of moments, he is tackled to the ground by ten-year-old Stan Marsh and then ten-year-old Jimmy Valmer and all three of them proceed to shove handfuls of upturned snow down one another's pants.

The idle laughter of the adults inside floats over Bobby Helms' 'Jingle Bell Rock' and the three boys, playfully pushing each other around and looking like they just survived an avalanche, now exchange gifts between themselves as they enter the house. Soon enough, Tweek follows suit and hobbles up to the front door. Just as he starts juggling with the presents in his arms, the door swings open, and he's face-to-face with what he hopes isn't a mirror image of himself in 30-some-odd years.

"Son! You made it!" Richard chimes, arms extended as he goes in for a hug. There are a few things wrong with this: Richard seems to have completely missed the handful of presents between him and Tweek, there has _never_ been a tight father-son relationship between them, and Tweek doesn't recall ever being taller than his father. Nevertheless, there's a sort of comfort that comes from being in his father's arms again, albeit for a short moment or two.

"Heh... Yeah, I did?" As a matter of fact, he did make it again this year - just as he _has_ done for, like, ever. What is Tweek supposed to say? 'I almost stayed home with Craig this year because I haven't been feeling all too well'? No. His parents didn't need to know anything about his recent decline in... _Whatever_. "Um, where's Mom?"

"She's inside just dying to see you again. Hey - How's the shop? I heard you've got the Broflovski boy working for you now." Richard leads Tweek towards the delicious smell of cinnamon, and this evokes another fleeting image of his younger self squeezing frosting onto a freshly-baked gingerbread house while Stan and Jimmy repeatedly pluck gumdrops off of said house.

"Yeah," he grunts dismissively, "Ike's a good kid. Real good kid. Just turned eighteen a couple months ago."

"Looks an awful lot like Craig, doesn't he?" Of course Richard didn't mean anything by this comment, but it still leaves Tweek unable to move from his spot once they reach the living room where everyone is situated. A petite woman crosses over to him and pulls him into a warm embrace, but Tweek is unable to recognize her at this very moment. A handful of once-familiar faces melt into one indistinguishable mess of vibrant colors and flashing lights, and Tweek must prop himself against the wall due to the severe episode of vertigo that suddenly afflicts him.

Tweek must have fainted at some point between then and now because he is unable to recollect any memory of winding up at a large dinner table beside Kenny. It's as if someone had gone into his head and erased that moment in time from his memory before he woke up.

Thomas glares at him whenever he looks in Tweek's direction. Laura does something under the table to him that makes him squirm. Stan is evidently trying to get Tweek's attention from across the table. The food looks amazing, and whenever someone compliments the glistening turkey in the middle of the table Dad starts spewing the metaphors rather than allow Mom to share her recipe. Now everyone is sharing stories about that one Christmas where the boys got lost in the neighboring woods for an entire night and this prompts someone else to relate the story about Stan breaking his leg after Tweek and Jimmy had dared him to ride their sled off the slanted roof. Then Tweek is mindlessly passing a present from Sharon to Jimmy and then a present from Wendy to Sharon and...

"Wait - _Kenny_?"

The blonde's sudden realization interrupts a story about one particular Christmas with the boys in their teenage years. It's probably the one about the guys' 'initiation' for Tweek - which had involved running through seven inches of snow butt-naked after he had to find his way out of the storage closet nearly a half-a-mile away from the cabin - and so Tweek is glad he cut Jimmy off. Kenny has to have been staring at Tweek because he tries all too hard to make it look like he just realized Tweek was sitting next to him.

"Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Stan grins. Everyone except Tweek laughs. "So nice of you to join us."

"Hey! Since everybody's finally here, why don't we start opening presents?" Trisha suggests with a sarcastic sneer directed at Tweek. She looks just like Craig aside from the thick eyeliner and platinum blonde hair. Last time Tweek saw her, her hair was jet black. She used to be so sweet and enjoyable to be around back when Craig was around. Then again... Tweek used to be an overall fun person back when Craig was around. He can't imagine the hatred she must feel towards him for what he'd allowed to happen to Craig.

While everyone starts going around the table unwrapping a new wristwatch or the ugliest cardigan known to mankind or what everyone thinks is a sort of sex toy but can't bring themselves to ask, Tweek turns to Kenny and asks, rather accusingly, "What are you doing here?"

"Tweek!" Tweek's mother places a delicate palm on his back. "What do you mean 'what are you doing here'? Kenny's been such a big help for you, hasn't he? The least you can do is thank him for everything he's done, don't you think?"

Tweek parts his lips but doesn't know how to respond. Did he mention Kenny in passing during one of their monthly phone calls? What does she think Kenny is? What _is_ Kenny?

"No, this is on me," Kenny grabs ahold of Tweek's shoulder and squeezes it. He doesn't let go, though, and instead allows his hand to slide down Tweek's back while he pretends that nothing is happening at all. "I'm sorry, Tweek. I should've told you I'd see you here during our last session. Guess I got a little too distracted." Kenny's hand makes it to Tweek's thigh and he tightens his grip on it at 'distracted'. Tweek is beyond confused and can't do anything about Kenny's overtly sexual gestures except cling to the present in his hands.

Thankfully, all eyes are now on him once it's his turn to unwrap a present, and Kenny has no choice but to leave him alone as Tweek speaks up: "I, uh, actually brought a present for Craig."

The room instantly goes quiet - 'stumbling upon an abandoned barn in the dead of night during a horror movie' quiet. Tweek nervously plays with the bow atop the gift in his hands, then stands to give it to Laura. Thomas stops him at the halfway point, towering over the blonde after he pushes out of his seat.

"Is this some sort of joke?" The man barks. Laura places a tremulous hand on his back before pulling it towards her face as Tweek silently slides the gift over, then turns, like a dog with his tail tucked between his hind legs, and returns to his seat. "Don't, Laura," he then growls. But there's a shivering anticipation in Thomas' voice that says he wants to see what Tweek got just as much as anyone else in the room. Slowly, soft, manicured hands unwrap the gift, but the pauses between paper tearing and muffled cries make it a much longer process than necessary.

It's a Canon digital camera, and the price is nearly 800 bucks.

"He... He's been talking about it since the beginning of last year," Tweek quietly murmurs, eyes cast down at his lap, "I... I broke into some of my savings to get it for him." He cast his mother a helpless and apologetic look. "... He wanted me to let you keep it for him since he can't use it."

"Oh, God," Laura suddenly sobs, pulling a tremulous hand to her mouth. Thomas looks around the room helplessly, eyes wet although he blinks away any tears before they can roll down his ruddy cheeks. Everyone else stares at Tweek, shocked beyond belief at what is occurring before their very eyes. Then Kenny breaks in, holding his arms out as he places a hand on Tweek's shoulder and opens his mouth to speak. But before he can manage to get anything out, Thomas throws an aimless punch at the blonde, and Tweek reflexively stumbles out of the chair so as to get out of Thomas' fist's path.

"Dad!"

" _Christ_ \- Thomas!"

"Oh, my God!"

The voices become one collective scream, and Tweek quickly helps Kenny up before staring up at the livid man.

" _You_ ," Thomas growls through gritted teeth. A coupled tears race down either of his cheeks as he squares up to the shorter blonde, "you-" he evidently struggles to force out whatever insult he'd meant to snap, as his lips twist horribly before he hisses disdainfully, "you _faggots_ have ruined my life! From day one, I _knew_ you were no good for Craig. Always making him haul his ass for sex - wasting all his time to pursue _your_ dreams while casting his aside like they didn't matter. Not once did you ever come to _him. No,_ because _you_ had more important things to do than waste your time on him. You-" he nearly chokes on a sob, voice far more unsteady now as he continues: "You killed my son! And - And now what? Now you're fucking... _Mocking_ us? I swear to God I'll snap your n-"

"Dear, Lord - Thomas, don't!"

Tweek isn't even sure who stopped Thomas from lunging forward and wringing meaty hands around his neck. Or how many it took. Or _why_ they stopped Thomas. But whatever the case, Kenny was currently practically dragging Tweek through the front door while his parents trailed behind. His mother holds out her arm while crying into her handkerchief like he's fallen into a well and was too deep in it to be pulled out. Everyone else crowds around behind them: Stan, Jimmy, Trisha, and all the parents of said individuals. All Tweek sees are the flashing reds and greens of Christmas lights and Santa waving him one last goodbye.

Tweek didn't expect to have Kenny drive him home after only an hour of visiting the family. He didn't even get to say goodbye.

But all he can think now, though, is: "Thomas is right."


End file.
